Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“You okay, Anya?” Bertrand asks, coming toward me with his usual hurried stride.
“Yeah.” I push off the wall and rub my hands over my face. “She’s in one of her moods.”
He stops in front of me. “When’s your next appointment with her psychologist?”
“Not until next month. I just had one.”
“It sucks, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”
“You have no idea.”
“Cheer up,” he says. “The wheel is turning. You’ll catch a break on the upside.”
My phone rings in my pocket. I take it out and check the screen. It’s my ob-gyn. “Sorry.” I shoot him an apologetic smile. “I have to take this.”
“Go ahead.” Continuing on his way, he calls from over his shoulder, “You take care now, Anya.”
I swipe the button and press the phone against my ear as I walk to the security door, praying that the check I gave the doctor didn’t bounce. The bank extended my overdraft, but the manager warned me that it was the last concession as I already exceeded my credit limit.
“Dr. Chang?”
“Ms. Brennan, I got the results from your blood test. Can you swing by on Monday?”
My stomach clenches with worry. “Is something wrong?”
“Not necessarily. I prefer we talk face to face. It’s easier to address questions and concerns.”
“Of course,” I say, turning my face to the camera and pressing the call button for a staff member to open the door.
“Shall we say nine o’clock?”
The door opens with a click.
“I’ll have to ask time off from work.” I enter the lobby. “Can I confirm this afternoon?”
“Sure. I’ll wait for your call.”
Just as I step onto the path, a dizzy spell hits me as if on cue.
Placing a hand over my stomach, I take a calming breath. “It’s going to be all right, Baby.”
It has to be.
What else can go wrong?
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Saverio
With our mission accomplished, Giorgio and I fly back to New York City on Sunday evening. It’s been a tense week during which neither of us spoke more than ten words. He leans back on the seat opposite me in the chopper and loosens his tie, seeming to relax for the first time since we left for Boston. The pensive way he looks at me tells me he’s got shit on his mind, but I’m too focused on what I’m busy with to give him my attention, which is watching Anya on the camera that feeds to the app on my phone as she gets ready for bed.
I’ve been obsessively stalking her via those cameras during the week. It had more to do with a foreign anticipation that built in my gut than making sure she doesn’t cross any lines. The man I put in charge of watching her is doing his job. He would’ve alerted me if she tried anything foolish. No, my obsession is born from a strange possession that pumps through my veins. I’ve always condemned slavery, but by God, I’d love to make her my slave, to shackle her to me and coerce obedience from her with the sweetest punishment. As always, my cock agrees with that thought.
Yet the eagerness to get back to her doesn’t sprout from lust alone. Worry won’t leave me in peace. She’s been sick most mornings and throughout the day. Losing that much energy and nutrients can’t be good for her or the baby. She hasn’t slept well either. She’s frequently up in the middle of the night for a drink of water. Sometimes, she switches on the bed lamp and reads. The only reason I won’t barge straight into her apartment tonight is because she needs her rest. We’ll land late, but come Monday morning, I’m taking her to see Nicole.
“You need to let this thing with Rachele go,” Giorgio says.
I lift my face from my phone. “Who says I didn’t?”
“You haven’t been yourself this week. You’re preoccupied. It’s not like you to be unfocused during a job.”
I fix him with a cold look. “You know better than to fucking push me now.” I’m still in killer mode, the violence coursing through me making me more of a war machine than a man. “I did the job, and I did it well.”
“I know you, Sav.” He stretches his arms over the back of his seat. “Seeing her on Wednesday fucked with your head.”
I don’t bother to reply. I check the screen of my phone. Anya is in bed, lying on her side with the covers pulled up to her chin. She has a habit of making a nest with pillows before settling in. She always pushes one between her knees and another against her stomach. I love that little ritual, and I missed it because of fucking Giorgio.
“Are you going to kill him?” he asks.
Clenching my jaw, I close the app and meet his gaze again. “Who?”
“Archibald.”
“Maybe.”
He considers me for a moment before saying, “It’ll make Rach miserable.”